


Blonde Hair, Black Lungs

by Cakeenkets



Series: Mediocre at Best [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, High School, Maverick's school days, One Shot, just two dudes hanging out(kinda), lowkey flirting, maverick's still a dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-18 11:08:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18119585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cakeenkets/pseuds/Cakeenkets
Summary: While waiting for the cheer squad’s afterschool practice to end, Maverick is forced to seat by an eccentric teen who decided he wanted to talk, and talk he did.





	Blonde Hair, Black Lungs

The air is unusually stiff for late October. The skies are clear and not a single trace of clouds can be spotted anywhere, making way for the sun’s beams to shine easily through the pale bluish lilac painted sky. It’s rays gradually transitioning from the harsh heat of a three-p.m. afternoon to a mellow cool-warm of a five-pm sunset. It’s warm rays directly hitting the football field, rendering the landscape to look almost like a badly rendered video game while simultaneously painting it to look like a photograph taken straight from an old-school polaroid camera, the lenses of the gadget making sure to capture the sun, making the image possess some sort of sunset-gradient aesthetic. The spot directly in the middle of the spectrum accomplished by the two descriptions is an unsettling yet comforting sight at the same time.

Several sneakers lightly smudged with mud and freshly cut grass crush the field as hoarse yet overenthusiastic chanting fills the stagnant air.

Maverick leans his back onto the bleachers. He carefully places his hands onto the seats, being painfully mindful of any leftover gum or whatever sickly trash is left to rot there by the careless students who attended his good for nothing school. Once he settles down as comfortable as one can possibly get from sitting on a metallic surface left to heat up with the blaring sun almost _all day_ , he heaves a sigh.

His icy blue eyes are tired, compared to the energetic static lingering in the air thanks to the booming cheers and synchronized beats created by the stomps onto the soft grass. That dulling blue color scan his surroundings before fixating on a particular head of auburn brown hair into the crowd of cheerleaders below, with their skirts way too short and their energy way to high and so utterly _fake_ that it could possibly—no, _definitely_ give Maverick a headache at any given point in time.

The said cheerleader notices the raven-haired teen’s presence and she looks up from the field to see him loitering on one of the many rows of the bleachers. Her friends soon notice her gaze and they instantly begin to surround her, giggling, whispering and playfully jabbing her with their elbows. It makes Maverick sick yet he keeps his calm composure from faltering.

The brunette finally offers him weak smile which then resulted in her friends squealing and swooning. Maverick fights the urge to roll his eyes, _as per usua_ l. He lifts up his hand in a lazy attempt of a wave and returns the warm smile. From an outsider’s point of view, their small little exchange might have looked genuine and sweet but the two of them knew otherwise.

The brunette quickly flashes him a look easily unnoticed by her peers, and she averts her equally bright blue eyes just as quick, pretending to be immediately drawn into the attention of her fellow cheerleaders. The other girls soon follow her, _like braindead zombies_ , Maverick might add, and as the final short skirt-clad teen turns their back from Maverick, the raven-haired finally gives up the facade and sighs. He hunches his back, slouching his shoulders as he immediately tears his gaze away from the set of cheerleaders, growing sicker and even more tired as each second passed by. _Who ever said smiling makes you feel good, they certainly fucking lied._

He plays with his hands for a few seconds, cracking his knuckles in every possible way in a sad attempt in entertaining himself. He mentally curses himself for draining all the power on his phone as he catches a glimpse of his backpack resting beside him.

He notices something else from the corner of his eye too but he doesn’t fully acknowledge it. A figure. An annoying feeling starts bubbling in the raven-haired teen’s chest. After all of the times he’d been loitering about the bleachers, so far, there had been _nobody_ but him who stayed after school, and when they did, they would definitely not spend their time sitting mindlessly on the worn-out metallic benches under the harsh sun like a lonesome weirdo like him.

Soon enough, a shadow casts over him way too soon for it to be the sun setting over the school building, and he fights the urge to investigate, instead keeping his eyes straight forward, pretending that the girls on the field’s cheer routine was the most interesting thing to watch at the moment. _If you ignore them, they’d fucking leave you alone._

“Hey”, a soft-spoken voice coming from above finally began to speak. Despite not seeing the face of the owner of the voice, Maverick can sense a smirk and a hint of smugness from the looming figure. Maverick can already tell this was going to be a _really_ long day, _and_ a _pain in the ass_ he simply did not have the energy to deal with.

“Mind if I sit down?”, the voice continues without a response and before Maverick can bark a comment to back off, the figure helps himself to a seat beside him. 

Maverick grits his teeth yet he still refuses to acknowledge the presence of the teen who is now beside him. They sit in a one-sided tense and one-sided comfortable silence. Maverick unfortunately hanging on the worse end of the stick.

“So, what’re you doing out here? Waiting on someone?” The teen beside him continues to muse. Maverick is sure that the teen is eyeing at him as he opens his mouth to talk but Maverick pays no attention to him whatsoever.

They sit like this for a while before Maverick finally decides to chance a glance at the teen. As soon as he does so, he is met with warm hazel eyes staring right back at him, so by reflex, Maverick immediately tears his gaze away, but not quite entirely. He looks over the teen again and begins to study the teen’s appearance, immediately taking note of how dry the teen’s black hair looked like, looking almost like ash, save for his roots, which was blonde and looked surprisingly soft compared to the rest of his messy hair. Maverick assumes that teen’s black hair isn’t natural then.

This is further proven when he takes note of the rest of the teen’s look. A large black jacket lazily hung over his shoulders, and underneath it, he is sporting a matching black tank top and a silver necklace with a cross and a crescent trinket on it. Black tight skinny jeans that are ripped in some areas hugged his long legs and a black leather belt with a large metal buckle in the middle wrapped his hipline twice and firmly. He also has black combat boots to pull together the entire aesthetic, complete with the multiple metal chains and buckles.

If it weren’t for the teen’s matching black eyeliner and silver piercings with crosses present on his left ear, Maverick would’ve just passed this guy as someone who was just _really_ into black and silver accessories, but he knew the coincidences of this were likely uncanny. This kid is _definitely_ goth. No doubt. Maverick doesn’t know if wanted to snort or roll his eyes at the fact.

The corner of the said goth’s lips turns up into smirk.

“Are you done eyeing me up or what?”, the goth playfully teases Maverick with that soft voice of his. Now that Maverick is actually paying attention to the teen, he notices the voice had a slight hint of raspy-ness to it, as if the teen had just finished smoking a pack of cigarettes.

“What?”, Maverick blurted out, a slight British accent slipping through his words. His brows knit as he takes a moment to do a double take of the goth’s words.

The other teen seems to be amused by his reaction, his lips turn up into an even wider grin. He laughs to himself, charming and full of mischief. Fingers with matte black painted nails ran through dyed black hair, stopping midway and tugging lightly on the dry mess.

“Man, I knew I was good looking but I didn’t know I was _that_ good looking,” The goth replied.

“What do you want?”, Maverick snaps at him, his patience rapidly wearing thin and voice dripping with venom. If the goth wants to play games, Maverick isn’t having none of it, _especially_ today.

The goth seems to be unaffected by this though as he eyes Maverick with the same stupid smile on his face; It seems like it wasn’t coming off very soon. Maverick wanted it to come off soon. Too bad. It also seems very out of place in the boy’s entire gothic persona, Maverick notes.

The goth rests his hands on the metallic seat, replying innocently. “Oh, nothing. Just wanted to talk.”

Maverick raises an eyebrow. “Talk?”

The goth nods his head too eagerly, “You seem like a really cool dude. A lonely one too.” He points at the Maverick’s surrounding as if to prove a point. “Thought you might need a friend.” He offers the other another frisky smile.

“Friend?”, Maverick scoffs. “I don’t need friends.”

“Ouch”, the goth chuckles lightly as he clutches his chest, feigning pain. “You wound me, and I thought _I_ was the edgy one!” He laughs and he extends his hand to the other teen. “The name’s Zachary by the way.”

Maverick’s gaze shifts between Zachary and the goth’s extended hand. He gives Zachary an unimpressed look, hesitating a bit before deciding it would be easier to just let this conversation go as quick as possible. He sighs in defeat, “..Maverick.”

“Maverick, huh?” Zachary grins as he retreats his hand. “Now that’s a name I wouldn’t get tired of.”

“Don’t test your luck.”

Zachary quiets down as Maverick continues to shoot icy glares at him. The gothic teen stares at Maverick with a certain look on his face that Maverick isn’t quite sure he’s comfortable with getting, considering that it’s coming from a guy like _him_.

Despite Mavericks deathly glares, Zachary’s lips gradually turn into a wider smirk. He nibbles with his lower lip, and with almost hooded eyelids, he muses, “You know, your accent is really cute. You should talk more.”

“Fuck off.”

The goth laughs, throwing his head back as he did. He stifles another wave of laugher with his left hand, “Figures. It was still worth a shot.” He shrugs and he smiles broadly. _God_ , Maverick is already getting _so_ sick of him.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” Maverick hisses. He tears his gaze from the goth for a moment to glance at the football field. The girls are already finishing their usual warm-up drills and are already starting off with their main routine. “Why don’t you hang around with your other little goth buddies?”

“Hmm? Oh? Angela and Todd? They’re cool, “Zachary shrugs. Maverick glances at him to see that the goth had moved his gaze at the direction of the football field as well. “But I think you’re _way_ cooler.” He bobs his head at Maverick’s direction and smirks.

“ _Wow_ , I’m _touched_ ,” Maverick snorts, voice dripping with sarcasm. “ _Honestly_ , I _am_.”

Zachary laughs and Maverick stares at the teen in disbelief. The raven-haired teen opens his mouth, “You are definitely too— “

“Too what? Chipper for a goth?” Zachary shakes his head as he chuckles. “Yeah, I get that a lot. It’s really exhausting to act like you hate the world _all the time_ , you know?” He dramatically lets out a deep breath. “Although, Angela seems to do it flawlessly.”

Zachary gives him a toothy grin. “But hey, you’re definitely one to talk,” he teases. “You are definitely too _gothic_ for a prep.”

Maverick rolls his eyes. The corner of his mouth lifts a little and Zachary beams, not letting the small movement move past him.

“You’re still kind of plastic though so I think that still puts you on the prep stereotype if we’re really basing people off of that shitty charting system. So, your identity is safe.”

“Gee, _thanks_ ,” Maverick shakes his head. “I was almost worried there for a second.”

Zachary straight up roars with laughter so loud it was a miracle that the cheer squad practicing below weren’t distracted by it. Usually, Maverick would be conscious of how much noise the teen is making and how much of a scene he is causing but Maverick finds himself unable to care for a moment. He won’t admit it but, _fuck, did he miss not giving a shit._

After what seemed like an eternity, Zachary rubs his eyes, the last traces of his laughter finally subsiding. His grin is still as stupidly big as ever. Maverick regrets that he’s becoming all too used too it far too quick.

“So, Maverick, seriously, who _are_ you really waiting for?” The goth tilts his head as he cocks an eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure spending every minute sitting on these hard ass benches isn’t exactly your _cup of tea._ ”

Maverick chooses to ignore the little comment and he rolls his eyes.

“My girlfriend.”

“You have a _girlfriend_?” Zachary’s eyes widen. He then props his chin to his hand. “Huh, didn’t think you’d be the type.”

Maverick narrows his eyes, “..What do you mean?”

“Huh? Oh,” Zachary slightly lifts his head just as an especially loud chant comes from a cheerleader being thrown into the sky. “You just seem like you really hate being around people.”

“ _Really_? Then why are you here?”

Zachary laughs. “Smug, are we now?”

Maverick’s lips curve into a small smile, the goth’s continuous contagious smiles and laughter finally getting to him. Zachary catches the small movement and seems to beam at the sight.

From the corner of Maverick’s eye, he catches the teen cautiously inching closer to him. Maverick opens his mouth to protest when a warm body is suddenly pressed beside him. Maverick glares at Zachary who is now leaning his side to his own and continuing to ignore all rules and boundaries of personal space.

The goth extends his index finger, pointing to the football field below where the girls are now pumping their pompoms with their fists into the air. “Which one?” he asks.

Maverick gives him one final glare before reaching for the goth’s extended arm. He holds Zachary’s wrist and tries his best to ignore the annoying amused look plastered on the goth’s face. He positions the goth’s hand, pointing in the direction of a familiar brunette.

“That one,” Mavericks releases his hand.

Zachary narrows his eyes as he gives the figure a once-over. Once realization dawns to the goth, he whips his head back to face Maverick. With wide hazel eyes, he asks with a heavy accusatory tone, “Isn’t she with that jock dude though? What’s his name?” He snaps his fingers. “Oh, yeah! Jamie!”

Maverick shrugs. “Used to.”

Zachary smirks, “What happened?”

“They broke up,” Maverick nonchalantly answers.

The goth raises an eyebrow. “So, what? Are you just some sort of rebound or something?”

A booming cheer rings through Maverick’s ears as the cheerleaders raise their pompoms and strike different poses, each one more flamboyant and dynamic than the other. Maverick spots a brunette smiling, chest heaving and sweat dripping from her forehead. “Something like that.”

Zachary whistles lowly, “Complicated, huh? That sucks.” He shakes his head. “Jamie’s totally going to kill you for this, you know that, right?”

Maverick lets a lopsided grin slip past his lips and the goth almost couldn’t believe his eyes as he sees an unfamiliar hint of mischief and conceit take over the raven-haired teen’s cerulean-colored eyes. “I know,” the teen admits. “That’s kind of why I agreed in doing this actually, to _piss_ him off. Plus—,” he lifts his shoulder in a half-shrug. “The sex is pretty good.”

Zachary almost chokes. He shakes his head and chuckles in a surprisingly low-pitched voice Maverick has never heard before and the raven-haired teen can feel his spine shudder at the sound. 

“You’re kind of a bad boy, aren’t you?” The goth purrs lowly as he looks over Maverick with now heavy-lidded eyes, his dark ebony lashes almost kissing his spot-on gothic porcelain skin. “That’s good,” Zachary gradually leans onto Maverick, their faces now merely inches away from each other. The heat of Zachary’s breath brushes against Maverick’s ivory-colored cheek and Maverick’s breath hitches at the touch. Zachary whispers into the teen’s ear, “I like bad boys.”

The goth pulls away from the raven-haired teen with a low chuckle and Maverick glares at him, although the gesture is half-hearted. Zachary responds with a wink and Maverick can only roll his eyes in frustration.

Zachary stretches his long arms and before Maverick knew it, the goth hoists himself up from the bleachers. A pink-orange hue immediately hitting his skin like a transparent blanket, enveloping his whole body in a flush of warm colors as he stands up. Maverick stares at the goth and despite not knowing much about the annoying teen, he deems the image in front of him captures the goth’s entire personality almost perfectly.

Zachary seems to have noticed Maverick staring and he sheepishly smiles at the teen. Maverick feels his cheeks redden at the small gesture and he blames it for the sun’s warm rays gradually casting over him, _minutes away from setting,_ he notices.

The sound of flocking high-pitched feminine voices brings him back to the football field. The chorus of goodbyes and obligatory ‘ _we did good today’_ s faintly ringing through his eardrums. Zachary seems to have noticed as well as the goth whipped his head to the direction of the field, the source of all the noise. Maverick’s eyes follow the goth’s and there, the end of the usual scene of his _afterschool activities_ unfolds.

The tossing of pompoms into gym bags and the occasional exaggerated sluggish movements of the cheerleaders mixed with the giggling and not-so-hushed teasing about meaningless nonsense presents itself in front of Maverick, and the raven-haired teen sitting on the bleachers almost regrets being dragged into this entire scene in the first place. The teen sighs, already feeling more tired than before, even though he wasn’t the one being tossed midair and having to land a pose every time he did it during the entire duration of the practice.

Just as Maverick thinks this couldn’t get any longer, the gossiping finally begins to die out— _thank God_ —with promises of ‘ _I’ll text you later’s_ still faintly lingering in the still stiff air. A particular hint of auburn colored hair separates from the group of blue and red-clad cheerleaders, hair colors differing from blonde to red to _blonde_. She turns her heel onto the opposite direction from her peers. The hum of several shuffling feet crushing the soft grass lightly enveloping the entire football field until only one pair of dragging feet remains throughout the entire field. And then, the sound stops.

The brunette raises her head and her glacial blue eyes flicker to a similar set of blue-colored irises sitting on the bleachers. Maverick stares at her with equally cold eyes and without breaking eye contact, he stands up and reaches for his bag, slinging it onto his left shoulder. He shoves both of his hands into his pockets.

Maverick almost forgets about the goth looming beside him when a heavy weight is suddenly pressed onto one his shoulders. He snaps his head to his right and he sees Zachary’s manicured hand gripping onto his shoulder. The goth’s features held another weight to it, one that Maverick couldn’t quite point out. He is grinning, not at him but at something else. Maverick is about to follow his gaze when the goth’s head tilts to look at his.  

Zachary’s hazel eyes lock together with Maverick’s cerulean blue and the goth lets a feline-like grin etch onto his features. “Looks like your owner’s back.” Amused, he winks at him, “I’ll see you around then, bad boy.”

And with that, the goth chuckles and he gives Maverick’s shoulder one big _and painful_ playful pat, before reaching for the teen’s raven hair to ruffle it whilst ignoring the teen’s heated protests.

Maverick hisses a string of profanities under his breath as he raises his hand to struggle to fix his _now_ messy hair, and when he looks back, the goth is already making his way half-through down the bleachers. Maverick stares at him as the teen ran down the bleachers, hands in pockets, and grin still painfully bright on his pale complexion, before Maverick felt a stare boring through him and he snaps his head back to the brunette standing in the middle of the football field, cold blue eyes watching the whole exchange.

The brunette’s stare lingers at him for a second before she slowly lifts a manicured eyebrow, and Maverick sighs. He shakes his head and starts to make his own way down from the bleachers.

_He’s going to get such an earful on the walk home._

**Author's Note:**

> title is from the song, Blonde Hair, Black Lungs by sorority noise


End file.
